


if the world doesn't end

by nicole_writes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Ingrid's confused, Light Angst, Sylvain Pines (TM), These two just write themselves thousands of words and I can do nothing about it, They kind of figure it out but not really, This started soft and rom-com and veered drastically away from that, coffee shop AU (kind of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/nicole_writes
Summary: It starts with the redheaded barista that Felix likes. Ingrid doesn't know how she ended up here. / sylgrid modern au
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dorothea Arnault & Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Glenn Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea (past), Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	if the world doesn't end

**Author's Note:**

> It's late, but this wrote itself so I'm gonna publish it. Thanks to some anons on Tumblr who mentioned Sylgrid once and then suddenly it was all I could think about.

Ingrid is almost completely sure that Felix is in love with the barista at the university coffee shop. It’s not that Felix is particularly obvious when he feels things, rather it’s usually the opposite, but his insistence on meeting her at the same coffee shop for three days in a row is suspicious enough to her that she knows there’s something more going on. 

She shows up late on the third day to test a hypothesis and, true enough, through the front window of the store, she catches Felix making small talk with the barista. Ingrid recognizes the girl from her flaming red hair as the same girl who had been there for the last three days. Finally, when she’s two minutes late, Ingrid enters the store. Any later and she knows Felix will suspect she’s up to something because Ingrid is never late. 

Felix almost immediately ends the conversation and Ingrid catches the tiniest wilt to the mystery girl’s shoulders when he steps away and she forces herself not to smile. Felix strides over to her in four paces and presses her latte into her hand. He’s juggling three other drinks on a take-out tray in his free hand, but he meets her gaze steadily as if he expects her to point something out. 

Ingrid sips her coffee and says nothing on the subject, simply bumping the cafe door open so that they can wait outside for Dimitri and Sylvain who are late, as usual. Felix follows her out and takes a sip of his own coffee. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he grouses after a moment. 

Ingrid laughs. “I have no idea what you’re on about, Felix. Dorothea held me up at the end of the lecture. I was only two minutes late,” she points out. 

He narrows his eyes at her. “Damnit, Ingrid,” he mutters darkly. 

She sips her latte innocently, but as much as she wants to pry, she doesn’t. If she presses him, he’ll never come back here again and she’ll have doomed any connection he may have with the redheaded barista. He doesn’t get to pry into her flimsy lie either as Dimitri arrives, pink along his high cheekbones and right to the tip of his ears. 

Felix passes Dimitri his tea and raises an eyebrow. “What’s with you?” he asks their friend. 

Dimitri’s faint blush blooms fully. “Nothing,” he replies shortly.  
  
Ingrid hums and taps her chin. “Marianne?” she prods. Dimitri’s eyebrow twitches and she smiles victoriously. “Byleth,” she confirms to Felix. 

Felix rolls his eyes. “Of course.”

“Hey,” Dimitri objects, frowning at them as the colour fades from his face. 

Ingrid laughs again. “Ask her out, Dimitri, then you can stop being offended.”

He huffs and Felix tries to hide a faint smile. “Where’s Sylvain?” Dimitri asks, deflecting. 

Ingrid shrugs. Their fourth friend is always late even to situations he really shouldn’t be late to. It turns out that he’s not running too late since he rounds the corner after just a minute of awkward silence between the three friends.

The first thing she notices about Sylvain is that he looks ridiculously put together, as usual. He’s wearing tailored slacks and a turtleneck that looks practically built to accentuate his natural build. He’s got his father’s watch on and hair that’s just mussed enough to have taken a significant amount of effort in the morning. 

Dimitri is put together too, as he always is, but he looks like a professional student with the sweater and button-up combo. Felix is wearing track pants and a jacket and Ingrid is wearing her faculty sweater with a pair of leggings. 

“You’re late,” Felix grumbles as he pulls Sylvain’s coffee free from the tray. He hands it to him and immediately starts walking away to throw the tray in the trash nearby. 

Dimitri follows Felix after a brief grin at Sylvain, leaving Ingrid to wait for Sylvain to fall in step with her. He slides the hand not holding his coffee into his pocket and gives her an odd look. 

“What’s his deal?”

Ingrid feels herself smile unintentionally. “Don’t be a shit about this,” she prefaces quietly, keeping her voice down just enough that neither Dimitri or Felix will hear them. 

Sylvain’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t interrupt her. As much as Sylvain loves gossip, he also trusts Ingrid and is much better at keeping gossip and secrets hidden than Dimitri is. Plus, Dimitri is hopeless in the love department where Ingrid knows Sylvain has had more than a few successful conquests. 

“Felix has a thing for the barista,” she says. 

Sylvain glances at the cafe logo on the cup. “Seiros Coffee,” he reads out. He pauses to consider the name. His expression brightens after a moment. “Mercedes Martritz,” he says confidently. 

Ingrid sighs. “Ex?”

Sylvain almost snorts a laugh. “God I wish, but you should see her boyfriend. The guy’s a beast and I was not about to press him.” His brow furrows. “He’s actually friends with Dimitri, now that I think about it: Dedue Molinaro.”

The name is vaguely familiar to Ingrid. She’s pretty sure she’s met Dedue once or twice, but she can’t recall meeting Mercedes ever. “What does that have to do with Seiros Coffee?” she says, pushing past the blip in conversation. 

Sylvain grins, slow and lazy. It’s a startlingly handsome smile and Ingrid hates it. He flashes it anywhere and people trip over themselves to help him. She turns her eyes to Felix’s back ahead of her as their friends reach Dimitri’s car before she and Sylvain do. 

“Mercedes works there. I’m sure I could get the barista’s name from her,” he answers. 

Ingrid shakes her head. “Or we could just ask the barista.”

Sylvain hums, conceding her the point. “You have a plan?”

“Are you busy tomorrow at three?” she asks. 

“Maybe, but never too busy for you and meddling in Felix’s life,” he replies. “I’ll meet you there at three.”

“Oi!” Felix calls, leaning halfway out of the shotgun side of Dimitri’s car. “Are you idiots coming?”

Ingrid rolls her eyes and walks away from Sylvain. “Coming!” she calls back. 

* * *

Ingrid arrives at Seiros Coffee at 2:50 the next day. To her delight, she spots the redheaded barista sitting on a barstool nursing a mug of something, likely on a break from her shift. Her replacement is a silver-haired young man with freckled cheeks and a warm smile that Ingrid recognizes almost immediately. 

“Ashe!” she calls out. 

Ashe Ubert turns from his conversation with the mystery redhead and spots her. He smiles widely and waves. 

“Ingrid! I haven’t seen you since last winter!” he says pleasantly. He crosses the floor behind the counter to meet her at the register and Ingrid can feel the eyes of the redhead on her curiously. “What can I get for you?”

“Medium latte and a large americano misto,” she answers, ordering hers and Sylvain’s usual drinks. 

Ashe punches the order into the register and marks two cups. “Eight forty,” he requests. 

Ingrid passes him a ten and tips him the remainder when he tries to give the change back. Ashe’s grin widens as he moves towards the espresso machines to pour the drinks. 

“How have you been? Third year starting okay?” Ashe asks. 

Ingrid nods. “Yeah, it’s ramping up for sure, but it’s been pretty good.” She took an ecology course with Ashe in the winter term last year and they had been pretty good friends by the end of it. “I didn’t know you worked here,” she continued, gaze flicking around the coffee shop. 

Ashe shrugs as he starts to pour the milk for her drink. “It’s nice here and the shifts are good.”

The redhead laughs. “You’re welcome,” she says pleasantly. Her voice is higher and has a clearer, gentler tone than Ingrid had been expecting. 

Ashe shoots the redhead a half-exasperated look. “Ingrid, this is Annette who has been a friend of mine since high school. Annette, this is Ingrid. We had Ecology 232 together last winter.”

Annette smiles warmly and Ingrid notes the dimples in the girl’s cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you! You’ve been by with Felix the last few days in a row, right?”

Ingrid is almost surprised that Annette knows Felix’s name. “Yeah, we’re roommates.”

Annette hums pleasantly and Ashe finishes up the drinks Ingrid ordered. Ingrid takes a sip of hers and flashes Ashe an appreciative look. 

“What are you studying, Annette?” she asks curiously as she hovers at the handoff plane, one hand holding her drink and the other holding Sylvain’s. 

“I’m getting a performance degree in music and vocal studies,” Annette says cheerfully. 

Ingrid blinks. It’s completely unexpected, but it is fitting for the ball of positivity that Annette seems to be. “And you know Felix?” she prods lightly. 

Annette’s cheeks flush and Ingrid feels a faint rush of victory in the fact that she had picked up on something between her friend and the redheaded barista. Ashe laughs at Annette’s reaction and she scowls at him, chucking her napkin over the counter at him. 

Ashe dodges it with a grin. “Felix has only been here every day for a week when Annette’s working. I’m surprised I haven’t seen him today.”

“Ashe,” Annette whines. She inhales sharply and straightens her shoulders. “Felix and I met in the library a couple weeks ago.” She shrugs. “I mentioned that I work here and he’s been coming by to get coffee which,” she pauses, glaring at Ashe, “ _is a perfectly normal thing for a student to do_.”

Ingrid sips her latte to hide her smile. Annette is definitely sweet and from her reaction to a simple question, it’s clear she feels something for Felix. Annette focuses on Ingrid’s drink determinedly and seems to notice the second coffee she has ordered. 

“Waiting for someone?” the redhead asks, turning the conversation. 

Ingrid blinks at the second coffee in her hand because she had almost forgotten about it. “Oh, yes,” she agrees. “I’m meeting a friend,” she continues, but she doesn’t get to finish before she hears a familiar laugh from a couple feet back. 

“Ingrid Galatea, how lovely of you to order my coffee for me.”

Ingrid resists the urge to roll her eyes as she turns away from the counter to spot Yuri Leclerc entering the cafe with a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. She places Sylvain’s coffee down as Yuri approaches her and she narrows her eyes. 

“Nice try, Yuri, but it’s not for you.”

He gasps in mock outrage and bats his eyelashes at her in a gesture that should look stupid, but Yuri’s stupidly pretty so it somehow works. “I feel so offended.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes this time, sipping her own drink again. “Good,” she quips. 

Ashe laughs behind her and Yuri’s smirk twists into a more playful smile. “Hey Ashe, I’ll take my usual. Hello to you as well, Annette,” he says, greeting the two baristas. He steps around Ingrid to the register to drop a five-dollar bill to pay for his drink. 

Ingrid looks between Ashe and Yuri briefly as Yuri comes back to stand at the handoff plane. “Do you two know each other?”

“Our fathers are friends,” Ashe supplies as he steams the milk for whatever Yuri had ordered. 

“That’s a loose way of putting it,” Yuri replies breezily. 

“How have you been, Yuri?” Ingrid asks next. They’re kind of friends since Yuri is friends with Byleth and Byleth and Dimitri are close and Ingrid is close to Dimitri. 

He hums in reply and glances out the front window of the store. A mischievous glint shines in his eyes and he slides a fraction closer to Ingrid. “I’ve been great since we last spoke.” His tone is light and teasing and flirtatious, as it tends to be. 

Ingrid forces herself not to rise to his taunt and doesn’t step away from him. She picks up Sylvain’s drink again and takes a drink from her own coffee. “Been a few weeks,” she notes idly, keeping her gaze on his challengingly. 

Yuri smirks again as Ashe finally hands off his coffee. “Well, I’ve certainly poked the bear enough for one day. I do like my limbs attached,” he says cryptically as he nimbly steps away from Ingrid. “See you later Annette, Ashe,” he calls before making for the exit to the coffee shop. 

Ingrid blinks in surprise as she watches him leave. Sylvain had apparently chosen now to appear in the shop and he bumps into Yuri as the other man goes to leave. 

“Leclerc,” Sylvain says shortly. 

Yuri smiles. “Gautier.” 

The bell over the door chimes as Yuri disappears, leaving Ingrid to stare at Sylvain in confusion as Ashe and Annette exchanged a glance behind her back. Sylvain makes his way over to Ingrid and brightens when he sees she has already ordered his drink. 

“Thanks, Ing. How much do I owe you?” 

She waves him off. He paid for her pizza the week before which was much more costly than a single coffee. “I got it, don’t worry.”

Sylvain flashes her a charming smile. “My hero.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to Annette. “This is Sylvain. He’s also one of Felix’s roommates.” She waves a hand between Sylvain and Annette. “Sylvain, this is Annette. She knows Felix, apparently.”

Annette snaps her fingers. “Sylvain Gautier! Mercedes mentioned you!”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “You know Mercedes?”

Annette giggles. “Of course! Mercie’s my best friend!”

Sylvain grins. “Naturally. How is she?”

Ingrid watches as Sylvain smoothly makes conversation with Annette, someone he had never even met before and not for the first time, she found herself envying his social skills. There is something disarming about speaking with Sylvain, whether he is dressed sharply like the day before or casually like today, but she still doesn't understand the icy reception he had given to Yuri and how it contrasted with his usual warmth. 

After a moment, Sylvain and Annette finish discussing Annette’s saint of a roommate and Ingrid and Sylvain move to the corner of the coffee shop and sit down at a cramped table. Their laptops barely fit on the surface together and neither of them can fully tilt their screens back. Sylvain keeps glancing over Ingrid’s shoulder at Annette. 

“What?” Ingrid prods after he doesn’t stop. 

He just shakes his head. “She’s just sunshine personified. I can’t believe Felix likes her.”

Ingrid laughs lightly. “I mean she blushed pretty hard when I mentioned him before so it’s probably reciprocated.”  
  
Sylvain chuckles. “I can’t believe she likes him either,” he adds humorously.

Ingrid steps on his toe with her heel. “Things happen, Sylvain,” she says. 

He shrugs. “I mean Byleth likes Dimitri no matter how much he puts his foot in his mouth so I guess miracles can really happen.” His shoe taps the side of hers. 

They work for a little bit after that. Well, Ingrid does. She’s not entirely convinced that Sylvain doesn’t spend the time alternating between doing nothing on his computer and staring at her. Finally, when he stares at her for almost twenty seconds, she raises her eyes to meet his gaze. 

“What?”

He grins at her in the stupidly pretty way. “Nothing.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t get you.”

He shrugs. “That’s the point.”

Ingrid raises an eyebrow at him, but Sylvain’s pretty smile doesn’t waver so she goes back to ignoring him and trying to get the work done that she needs to do. Their mission regarding Felix’s mystery girl was a success so now she needs to focus back on her human physiology assignment or she will not do well on her midterm the next week. 

* * *

Ingrid texts Ashe for Annette’s number a week later and then texts Annette from Felix’s phone. Felix decides that he hates both Ingrid and Sylvain for meddling and doesn’t say a word to either of them for two days. The apartment is weirdly quiet and Dimitri notes that it’s weird to be the friend that Felix is actually talking to. 

Ingrid worries that she pushed it too hard, but Sylvain assures her that it’s just how Felix is and that he’ll get over himself. True enough, after two days of weirdness, Felix sits next to Ingrid at the table in the morning and says that Annette invited him to study with her that day. Neither of them apologizes, but everything is fine after that. 

Sylvain does a stupid dance around the kitchen when Felix tells him. Ingrid and Dimitri crack up while Felix tries to wrestle the taller Sylvain into a headlock to get him to stop. Ingrid pours herself another cup of coffee and sets the kettle on for Dimitri. She watches the boys struggle as Sylvain howls with laughter and Felix growls. 

When Felix finally gets Sylvain into a headlock, Sylvain taps out quickly, but he grins broadly at Ingrid and Dimitri as soon as Felix’s back is turned again. Ingrid rolls her eyes but smiles into her cup of coffee.

* * *

Ingrid drags all three of her boys to Dorothea’s party with her. Sylvain had already been planning on going and Dimitri is easy enough to convince when they tell him that Byleth will be there. Felix finally agrees when Ingrid invites Annette and the redhead joins in the pestering to get him to go. 

At the party, Byleth abducts Dimitri almost as soon as they arrive and he puts up absolutely no fight. Sylvain goes off to chat with Hilda and Claude in the kitchen and Annette drags Felix to talk to Lysithea and Linhardt. Ingrid finds herself alone, but she’s not worried about the fact. Dorothea always seems to find her within five minutes of her arrival at these kinds of parties. 

She makes her way into the living room and spots Byleth and Dimitri with Caspar and Petra and Raphael and Leonie. She almost heads over to them, when she sees a flash of vibrant purple hair in the corner. She follows it with her gaze and sees Yuri and Dorothea chatting in the corner, both of them wearing smirks. She doesn’t manage to look away before Dorothea spots her and she watches the singer’s face light up. 

Ingrid winces and nearly retreats back to the entranceway, but Dorothea and Yuri both beeline towards her. Dorothea links her arm in Ingrid’s and smiles broadly. 

“Ingrid, darling! I thought your boys would have made you later than this.”

Ingrid shrugs. “Turns out Annette is good at making Felix be on time and when enough people hound him, Sylvain is capable of being on time.”

Yuri and Dorothea exchange a glance and Yuri smiles slyly. “Where’d your boys disappear to?”

Ingrid nods to Dimitri on the other side of the room and describes Sylvain and Felix’s whereabouts. Yuri clicks his tongue. 

“Too bad. I do enjoy the look on his face every time I get within twenty feet of you,” he says teasingly. 

Ingrid blinks in surprise. “What?”

Yuri ignores her question but winks at both her and Dorothea before excusing himself from the conversation to find Hapi and Constance, his roommates. Dorothea tugs Ingrid through the living room into the dining room where there are fewer people. 

“Yuri figures he can only poke the bear so many times, so I guess it’s my turn,” Dorothea says teasingly. She winks at Ingrid flirtatiously. “I wonder how long I have until he comes out here to rescue you.”

Ingrid pulls away from Dorothea’s touch, frowning in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Dorothea’s perfectly manicured lips part in surprise. “Really? You haven’t noticed your big protective red bear that scares off all of your dating prospects?”

The pieces connect in her brain and Ingrid steps back, floundering in surprise. “Sylvain?” she hisses sharply. 

Dorothea cocks her head. “Yes?” 

Ingrid shakes her head vigorously. “No, no, Sylvain and I are friends. We’ve been friends since we were little kids. Besides,” her chest tightens suddenly as she thinks of her last real relationship and the rest of her argument dies in her throat. 

Dorothea notes her reaction and fills in the blank for herself. “You have to at least admit he’s a looker though, right?”

Ingrid bites the inside of her cheek and her eyes flicker towards the kitchen. She can see the back of Hilda’s head but not Claude or Sylvain. “I mean, everyone knows that. Including him.”

Dorothea rolls her eyes. “And how he’s always looking at you?”

Ingrid shakes her head again, something cold pressing against her stomach. “He’s my friend, Dorothea,” she emphasizes. “There’s nothing between us.”

“Honey, I’m so gay I can barely see straight, but there’s a reason Yuri only flirts with you when he knows Sylvain’s around to see it and a reason no one else ever would when he is. Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know?”

Ingrid feels like she’s going to be sick. She steps away from Dorothea. “Sylvain is my friend,” she says coolly again.  
  
Dorothea seems to realize she pressed a nerve, but Ingrid’s already feeling nauseous from the swarm of thoughts buzzing in her head. They had pre-drank at the apartment and her stomach is turning like it is about to empty everything she’d drunk onto the floor. She turns away from her friend and scans the rest of the house. 

She can just glimpse Dimitri in the living room. Byleth is sitting in his lap, combing her hands through his hair. That is a lost cause. Felix and Annette are god-knows-where and she absolutely cannot deal with Sylvain right now.  
  
Dorothea reaches for her arm in a poor attempt at comfort and Ingrid draws away. 

“I have to go,” she says. Her chest is tight and her throat is burning with the effort it’s taking not to panic. She strides away from Dorothea and heads immediately for the front door. 

The air inside the house is stifling and her head is spinning and she needs to be outside. She’s yanking on her second boot when Annette appears at the top of the stairs from the basement and spots her. She darts over to Ingrid quickly, looking surprised. 

“Everything okay?” she asks. 

Ingrid nods shortly. “Yeah, just not feeling it tonight. I’m going to head back to the apartment. Can you tell Felix? He’ll let Sylvain and Dimitri know.”

Annette drops the hand that had been reaching out to her. “Yeah, sure,” she agrees. She waits awkwardly as Ingrid finishes pulling on her shoes and reaches for the door. 

The night is crisp and the air stings when she inhales sharply. Ingrid jogs down the steps away from the front of the house and down the sidewalk until the bass of the music is no longer audible to her. She doubles over, pressing her palms against her knees as she fights off a sudden urge to cry. 

“Get home,” she says out loud to herself. “Just get home and deal with the rest later. Thea was drunk and you’re drunk and everything will be fine in the morning.” 

The vocalized instructions manage to kickstart her legs and she continues the walk back to their apartment. It’s a short walk, only about ten minutes, but she’s hyperaware of every street light and every car that passes on the street during her walk. Her hands shake as she punches in the building security code and her knees feel jiggly as she climbs the stairs to the third floor. She unlocks their apartment door and drops her keys in the bowl on the counter. 

She sinks onto the couch and stares blankly at the mantle where there are several framed photos of the four of them. There are none of Dimitri’s parents, but there’s one of all of them with Felix’s dad before the accident last fall, but it’s the one of the four of them as kids that makes her bite her tongue and shoot to her feet. 

She leaves the living room like she has been burned by it and flops onto her bed on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her ears are ringing faintly and she lies there without hardly moving a muscle for quite a while. Her phone rings in her pocket, but she doesn’t pull it out. It rings twice more within a minute, but she ignores all the calls numbly. 

Finally, she hears the apartment door open and she sits bolt upright in the bed. She glances at her clock. It’s only 11. None of her friends should be back until much, much later. She stands from her bed and peeks her head out into the hall, looking towards the living room.

Sylvain is standing behind the couch, trying to shove his shoes off as quickly as possible while also actively trying to remove his jacket. “Ingrid?” he calls out. 

She thinks about retreating into her room and closing the door, but he looks towards her and they make eye contact before she can. A lump swells in her throat as she steps out of her room, caught. 

“What are you doing back?” 

Sylvain finally manages to get his shoes off and he walks towards her, meeting her halfway between the living room and her room. “Heard you left. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

She frowns. “You could have just called me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I did. Three times.”

Her cheeks flush and she recalls the calls she had ignored. “Oh,” she replies dumbly. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. He steps closer to her, concern glittering in his amber eyes. 

Sylvain is looking at her like he’s trying to look into her soul and Ingrid’s stomach twists violently. She can only remember one other person ever looking at her like that. She inhales and closes her eyes. 

“Tell me you’re not in love with me,” she says. Her jaw clenches and her eyes squeeze shut more tightly as she waits. 

Sylvain says nothing for a moment and her eyes snap open. He looks taken aback by the question and the bluntness of it. For a moment, Ingrid is relieved because there’s no way that he would have been this surprised if he wasn’t in love with her. Then, guilt flashes in his eyes and she feels like he has just slapped her in the face. 

“Sylvain,” she says, her tone hard. 

His tongue wets his bottom lip and she panics. She brushes past him into the living room and digs her fingers into her hair, massaging the headache blooming under her scalp. She paces the length of the living room and Sylvain quietly follows her, staring but not speaking. 

She pauses and stares back at him. “What the hell, Sylvain?” she explodes.

His temper finally cracks. “What do you want from me, Ingrid? I didn’t ask for this to happen.”

“Well, then make it stop!” she demands, ripping her hands free and waving them in his direction. 

He recoils, his anger vanishing as hurt quickly replaces it. “Make it stop,” he echoes. 

The look on Sylvain’s face now is like a kicked puppy. Guilt and sadness twist in her gut again and she feels sick. She’s seen this ashamed, wounded look before and this is a real Sylvain emotion, not one of the fake ones he projects to keep up outward images around other people. 

“You can’t love me,” she croaks. Her throat tightens against her will and her eyes burn. 

“Why not?” he presses. 

“Because of Glenn!” she snaps.

Both of their heads turn to the picture on the mantle. The four of them are just kids in it but sandwiched in the middle with one arm around Dimitri and the other around Felix, is a young Glenn Fraldarius. Felix’s older brother, Dimitri’s friend, Sylvain’s friend, and Ingrid’s ex-boyfriend. 

Sylvain runs his hands through his hair. “Ingrid, Glenn is gone!” his voice raises in volume. “He died and left us here and it fucking sucks, but we can’t change that. Just like the fact that I can’t change how I feel about you.”

She recoils away from him. “How can you say that?”

Sylvain looks desperate now. “Because Glenn was like my brother and I know how much he loved you, but Ingrid, it’s always been you for me too. You were sixteen and he was eighteen and he told me how much he liked you and that he was going to ask you out and I almost punched him. It’s been you for me since I was sixteen years old, but you never would have chosen me over Glenn so I shut up and rolled over. I’ve been shutting up for six years, but Glenn is dead and I’m sorry I can’t shut up anymore.”

“Please, stop,” Ingrid says quietly. She’s aware that she’s crying now, but her breaths are shallow and her ears are ringing. 

Sylvain’s anger deflates and they’re standing across the living room from each other with their chests heaving. His eyes are wet too and Ingrid’s anger evaporates. She sits down on the floor of the living room with her back to the back of the sofa. After a moment, Sylvain sits down at the other end of the couch and lets his head tip back against the couch. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly. 

“No,” she says. “This is not your fault, Sylvain. I shouldn’t have blown up at you.”

His eyes close and he inhales deeply. “He was a good friend. A good friend to Dimitri and a good friend to me and a damn good brother to Felix and he was so good to you. I hated him for so many years. He and Felix were real brothers and he had you.”

Ingrid tucks her knees against her chest. “You were sixteen,” she mumbles. “Why?”

His head lolls towards her and his eyes open. “You’re a badass. You’re beautiful and intelligent and strong and passionate. You put up with my bullshit.”

She inhales shakily. “I don’t know what I’m feeling,” she admits. 

Sylvain slides towards her on the floor of the apartment. His movements are slow like he’s trying not to scare off a startled deer. “Talk me through it,” he suggests patiently. 

He’s not pushy or demanding. He’s honest and real and Ingrid exhales slowly. 

“Felix is like a brother to me still. Dimitri’s my friend, but in the same way that Dorothea and Annette and Ashe are my friends. You’re my friend too, but,” she trails off, her throat tightening. She wipes at her eyes viciously, smudging the mascara Annette had wrangled her into. 

“But?” Sylvain prompts. 

She looks at him and her breath catches. His features are illuminated by the light in the kitchen since it’s the only light they’d turned on in the apartment. He looks stupidly pretty and vulnerable and boyish and shy in a way that’s so unlike Sylvain it feels wrong. His cheekbones and jawline are sharp and handsome and his eyes are glittering with warmth despite everything she has done tonight. 

She tears her eyes away and wrings her hands in her lap. “But you’re pretty.” _Inhale_. _Exhale._ “I liked you back then, before Glenn, but I haven’t done anything to let go of him since he died.”

Sylvain swallows. “Nothing has to change between us,” he offers. 

She doesn’t want that. She’s confused, definitely, because of Glenn and the fact that apparently everyone knew Sylvain loved her except her, but she doesn’t want to go back to not seeing the way that Sylvain is looking at her right now. It’s like she can feel his eyes staring straight into her heart, something that she had only felt with Glenn after a year and a half of dating and yet Sylvain is sitting here, half-drunk, on their floor and she feels like she can see straight through him as well. 

She twists on the ground and leans into him, pressing her lips to his quickly. Sylvain doesn’t move against her touch and she pulls back after a second. 

“What was that?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But, I want things to change.” She closes her eyes and leans against his shoulder. He’s warm, but tense. “The world didn’t end, did it?”

“No,” he whispers quietly. She can feel his warm breath skimming the top of her head. 

“Good,” she mumbles.  
  
“Ingrid, what are you doing?”

“Letting him go,” she says. She pictures Glenn’s sly grin in her mind and then dismisses it to think of Sylvain’s lazy smile. “I can’t say it yet,” she murmurs. 

Sylvain kisses the top of her head and a warm hand wraps around one of hers. “I’m not asking you to. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

She opens her eyes and looks at him. “The world didn’t end,” she repeats. “You’re still here and I’m still here and Glenn isn’t. I can’t say it today.” She finishes by angling her head up and kissing him lightly again. His lips are warm and make hers tingle.  
  
She’s pretty sure she’s crying again, but it doesn’t feel wrong anymore. She thinks of Sylvain laying his head in her lap as they watch movies on the couch and stepping on his toes at a coffee shop when they’re doing recon about a girl Felix is into and the warmth of his hand in hers at Glenn’s funeral and she knows that she loves him too. 

She can’t say it yet, but something in her chest loosens and the Glenn-shaped hole in her heart shrinks a little. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” she mumbles. 

“No,” Sylvain says. “When you’re ready,” he proposes instead. 

Ingrid smiles faintly. She squeezes his hand. “You’re not going anywhere?”

“Not unless you tell me to.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Dimitri finds them leaning against the back of the couch, holding hands and fast asleep when he gets home. Byleth slips away to Dimitri’s room while he pauses to drape a blanket over them. He glances at the photo in the centre of the mantle. He smiles faintly to himself and heads to bed. 


End file.
